


Miss Griffin

by mylifeiskara



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Clarke's a little bit of a bitch, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Minor John Murphy/Raven Reyes, Oblivious Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, but in a fun way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeiskara/pseuds/mylifeiskara
Summary: In all her twenty-one years of life, Clarke Griffin was fortunate to have little to complain about. But when her friend Octavia moved to London with her new husband, Clarke found herself in need of a new companion and Miss Harper McIntyre fit the bill. Unfortunately, it would take Mr. Blake more convincing to see that Clarke really did want Harper to be her friend, and not just her new project.An Emma AU
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 21
Kudos: 22





	1. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to this very long overdue Bellarke Emma AU! If you followed me on Tumblr between the months of March and September of 2020, you will know that I basically became an Emma blog with the release of the new movie. Well Emma is one of my favorite books and my favorite Jane Austen, and I am very excited to be bringing this fic to you guys finally!

In all her twenty-one years of life, Clarke Griffin had wanted for nothing. Though her mother died when she was young, she had a doting father who saw that she had everything she desired. It was a charmed life she led, as the mistress of Arkadia, the most grand estate in all of Highbury. The first few years of her life were rather lonely, but she found a playmate in Octavia Blake, a young girl whose family lived on a neighboring estate. Much like Clarke, Octavia’s mother had also died, and she was looked after by her elder brother, Mr. Bellamy Blake. Octavia practically spent more time with Clarke than she did at her own home, so Clarke’s father extended the invitation to Mr. Blake to join them at Arkadia whenever he pleased. The Blakes were like family, and Clarke did not know what she would do without them in her life.

Some might call Clarke spoiled, but she did not see it that way. She was merely particular about who she spent her time with and what she spent that time doing. Highbury was a small village, full of people who had little else to do besides gossip over tea. Clarke would be horrified to have her name uttered on the tongues of the other villagers unless it were to do with her charity or news of an impending marriage. But Clarke was not interested in marrying.

Clarke was unlike many women of her age. She had no use for a title or property since she already had Arkadia, so she had none of the usual inducements for marriage. Instead she wanted her friends to be happily matched and wed. In fact, Clarke fancied herself quite the matchmaker. Though she was only responsible for one match, she just knew that credit was due to her for the suggestion.

A little under a year ago, Clarke’s father hired Mr. Lincoln Woods, a lawyer who was helping him with matters of property. As usual, Octavia was at Arkadia when Mr. Woods arrived, and Clarke did not miss the way her friend lit up when she and Mr. Woods were introduced. Clarke wanted nothing but the best for her friend, and Mr. Woods seemed an amiable, charming man. He would no doubt make an excellent husband, and from that moment, Clarke immediately took it upon herself to make their courtship possible, and she would not rest until they were happily wed.

It did not take much work on Clarke’s part; she merely watched for signs of affection when she mentioned the other in casual conversation. She was pleased on both fronts that there might be hope for the two to be together after all. All it took was her push and Octavia and Mr. Woods fell madly in love. Clarke could not be happier for her friend, though she did forget to take one thing into account that did not sink in until the day of Octavia’s wedding.

Mr. Woods was based in London, which meant that Octavia would be removing there. No longer would she be Octavia at Polis just down the walk, but Mrs. Woods in London, many miles away. What was Clarke to do without her best friend always by her side? Certainly Octavia would still come for Christmas and perhaps one or two other visits throughout the year, but she had never spent more than an afternoon apart from Octavia since the first time she came to Arkadia.

“Oh, but are you sure you should start the journey today?” Mr. Griffin asked. The servants were loading the carriage for Mr. Woods and Octavia’s departure. “It will be dark soon, and you know I have never advised traveling at night.”

“We are stopping at an inn for the night and will continue the journey tomorrow, sir,” Mr. Woods reassured Mr. Griffin, though that would not stop Clarke’s father from worrying. He always worried.

“We can easily arrange a room for you to stay the night.”

“The arrangements are already made, Mr. Griffin. We spoke about them at length,” Octavia reminded him.

“Of course, of course.”

“They will be fine, Papa,” Clarke said, resting a reassuring hand on her father’s arm. She knew how hard he was to soothe in these situations of change, but they had been preparing for this day for some time.

“Yes, well I do not think it will hurt to inspect the horses one last time.” Mr. Griffin walked to the front of the carriage and motioned for Mr. Woods to follow. Clarke chuckled at her father’s antics, but was grateful for them in this moment, because it meant she had a chance to say goodbye to Octavia alone. She embraced her friend, willing the tears that she could feel forming in her eyes not to fall.

“How am I to bear it when you are gone?” Clarke asked as she pulled away.

“You are always welcome to visit me in London,” Octavia said.

“That is not the same as seeing you everyday. And you know how Papa feels about traveling. He would never allow it.”

“Then I shall write to you all the time. You will not be able to miss me because my updates will be so frequent.”

“I shall hold you to it. Everything in Highbury is going to seem unimaginably dull the next time you are here.”

“I shall cherish the dullness. I just know I’ll miss it here. But I am excited to go to London.”

Clarke took Octavia’s hands in hers. “I wish you every happiness on your new adventure.”

“Thank you, Clarke.” Clarke did not miss the tears welling in her friend’s eyes. She brought her in for one last embrace and held her close.

“Will you look after Bellamy while I’m away?” Octavia asked.

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. “I should think a man of thirty does not need me to look after him.”

“I just know he will keep himself holed away now that he does not have me to tend to. You must promise me you’ll keep an eye on him and make sure he leaves the house.”

“I promise, Octavia. Papa adores him, so I expect he will still be over all the time, even though you are gone.”

“Thank you. I had better get going. But the minute I step foot in London, I will write you a letter.”

“I look forward to it!”

Clarke and her father waved the carriage off, watching as it made its way down the lane until it was out of sight.

“Poor Octavia,” Mr. Griffin sighed.

“Octavia’s marriage is a happy thing, Papa,” Clarke scolded. “You mustn’t act as though you are not pleased for her.”

“How can I be pleased when she is moving so very far away? I do not think the London air will agree with her.”

“Octavia has longed for city air her entire life. Your concerns are quite misplaced.”

Her father waved her off. “You must promise me, Clarke, that you will not make any more matches. This one was far too successful.”

“How else am I to entertain myself, Papa? Especially now that Octavia is gone!”

“We need not have any more change until next winter at least.”

Clarke laughed and took her father’s arm as she led him back inside. “I promise to never make a match for myself, Papa. But that is all I will promise.”

Her father grumbled, but accepted her terms. All he wanted was for Clarke to be happy, and Clarke was happiest when she was kept busy. He could not deprive her of her matches when there was little else to do in Highbury.

After dinner, Mr. Blake made his appearance as usual. Clarke saw him approaching on the path and quickly made her way to the pianoforte. Mr. Blake was rather invested in Clarke bettering herself, and she knew he would be pleased to see her practicing.

Clarke loved both the Blake siblings, but she found the elder to be completely flummoxing. He and Octavia could not be more different, though they shared the same stubbornness that must be a Blake family characteristic. One could not find a kinder man than Mr. Blake, though he seemed to take joy in simply disagreeing with Clarke. Clarke did not mind. He was evenly matched in that regard, seeing as he was her favorite sparring partner.

“Mr. Blake!” Mr. Griffin said as Mr. Blake entered the drawing room. “How lovely to see you.”

“Mr. Griffin,” Mr. Blake gave a slight bow before turning his attention to Clarke at the pianoforte. “That piece gets better and better every time I hear it, Clarke. Imagine the leaps and bounds it would make if that were more often.”

Clarke smiled at Mr. Blake, closing the pianoforte and returning to her seat. “Perhaps it has slipped your mind, but I was preoccupied with planning your sister’s wedding celebration. It’s a pity that my practicing had to suffer, but I should think the wonderful day we all just had should make up for it.”

“Wonderful day,” Clarke’s father grumbled. “It was a tragedy.”

“I cannot say I agree, sir, given that I have never seen my sister so happy,” Mr. Blake said. “Though it is a tragedy to see her leave Highbury.”

“You will still come in the evenings, Mr. Blake. We cannot lose two Blake siblings in the course of one day. That would just be too much.”

“Of course, sir. I should be glad of the company.”

“Yes, we must make sure that Mr. Blake gets his exercise. I know you would not leave the house if you had no reason to,” Clarke said.

“Did Octavia tell you to say that?”

“What does it matter if she did when I agree with her?”

Mr. Blake frowned. “I get plenty of exercise, I thank you. I rarely take my carriage out. It upsets my housekeeper to no end, but I do not see the point when the weather is so nice.”

“I should listen to your housekeeper, Mr. Blake. You’ll catch your death one day traipsing about,” Mr. Griffin warned.

“Papa, the walk from Arkadia to Polis is not at all long,” Clarke supplied. “We should allow Mr. Blake his walks if he enjoys them.”

Mr. Griffin grumbled and returned his attention to his book. Clarke did not miss the small smile that began on Mr. Blake’s face at her words. For as much as time as they spent pestering each other, it was all done out of fondness.

“So,” Mr. Blake started, “what news have you from the village today?”

“I do not understand you, Mr. Blake. You admonish me for occupying my time with gossip, yet you always come to me and ask to know it.”

“I need to stay informed. And you seem to know everything. Any news of Mr. John Murphy? I know he is always a favorite subject of yours.”

Clarke frowned, but did not allow herself to be affected by Mr. Blake’s tone. She knew how he felt about Mr. Murphy.

John Murphy shared a similar story to Clarke’s, though it ended much differently. He was born in Highbury to a merchant named Marcus Kane and his wife, who died only a few years after giving birth. Mr. Kane was not in a place to provide for him, so he sent John to live with his aunt and uncle who could better care for him. He was set to inherit his uncle’s estate, and he changed his name to John Murphy. He had not been seen in Highbury since his departure as a child.

Mr. Kane was a good friend of Clarke’s mother and therefore a close friend of the Griffin family. Clarke heard many reports on Mr. Murphy’s health, but she was dying to meet the man himself. Every time it seemed he was on the brink of a visit, something kept him from coming, usually his duties to his perpetually ill aunt and the estate. Clarke had lost count of how many times Mr. Kane showed her a new letter of Mr. Murphy’s sending his regrets. She knew it wore on Mr. Kane, not being able to see his son as regularly as he wished, but he did make several trips to London to visit Mr. Murphy there. Clarke knew it was Mr. Kane’s greatest wish to be able to show his son around Highbury once more, but with each passing day it became less and less likely that that would ever occur.

“If you must know, Mr. Murphy wrote last week. He had hoped to come to Highbury in October, but he could not get away,” Clarke explained.

Mr. Blake huffed. “Just as I suspected. John Murphy never fails to find a new way to disappoint his father.”

“John Murphy has a duty to his aunt and uncle, first and foremost. How can he not be indebted to them when they took him in all those years ago?”

“That may be true, but he also has a duty to his father, the man who gave him up so he could live a better life. It would cost Mr. Murphy very little to pay Mr. Kane a visit here, rather than make him trek to London twice a year.”

“I feel this is something we will never agree on, Mr. Blake,” Clarke declared. “But we should let Mr. Murphy speak for himself when he finally arrives.”

“That is if he ever does arrive,” Mr. Blake grumbled.

“He will come.” Clarke ended the conversation there, in favor of turning back to the book she had been reading before Mr. Blake arrived. She would not argue about John Murphy any more today. It was indeed a subject that she and Mr. Blake would never see eye to eye on. She had faith that Mr. Murphy would one day make his way back to Highbury, if only because Mr. Kane was so sure of the fact, and she trusted Mr. Kane to know his own son. Mr. Blake would see.

The first full day without Octavia around was an absolute bore. Clarke did not realize how much of her day revolved around her best friend. She could hardly sit and wait by the door for a letter to arrive. If Mr. Blake were here, he would say Clarke should devote her newfound free time to her studies. Over a year ago, Clarke had created a list of books she felt she should read to be a more well-rounded person, but she had barely made a dent in the stack. How could she read when there were far more interesting activities? And she could not talk to Octavia and read at the same time. Perhaps with Octavia gone she would find more time to read, though it did not sound the least bit enticing.

Clarke stared out the window as she and her father ate breakfast together.

“How shall you spend your day today, Clarke?” Mr. Griffin asked.

“I am not sure. I should like to take a walk into the village later. I have a letter to post. And perhaps I can look for some new ribbons. And I ought to stop at Mrs. Diyoza’s and bring her the fabric I promised.”

“Are you sure a walk is wise? Jasper told me it is quite chilly today.”

“I will bring my shawl, Papa.” She wished her father would not worry so. If Clarke stayed cooped up in the house one moment longer, she thought she might die.

“Well if you are going into town, why not stop and drop off apples from the orchard for Miss Franco?”

Clarke sighed. Dropping off apples for Miss Franco was the last thing she wanted to do. But she could not very well tell her father that.

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

Clarke spent the morning writing a letter to Octavia. She knew that Octavia was going to send a letter when she arrived in London, but Clarke was too excited to wait. And she knew Octavia would find it funny.

With her letter to Octavia, the apples for Miss Franco, and the fabric for Mrs. Diyoza, Clarke set off towards town. It was a pleasant and familiar walk, though she could not help but find it lonely without Octavia. They used to run all their errands together and some of their best conversations were on their walks into the village. She missed the jokes that Octavia told that made Clarke laugh out loud. She missed taking the long route through the fields to get back to Arkadia when they wanted to make an adventure out of their afternoon and pick some wildflowers. Clarke did not know how she would find joy in any activity without Octavia present. Most of her memories, she was always right by her side. This was the start of a completely new chapter, and Clarke wasn’t so sure that she liked the way it was starting off.

Clarke knocked on the door to Miss Franco’s apartment, taking a deep breath as she did so. With any luck, it would be a quick visit, especially now that Octavia was not present. Octavia was much better at talking to Miss Franco and feigning interest than Clarke was.

“Miss Griffin!” Miss Franco exclaimed as she opened the door. “What a surprise, do come in. I’ve just had a letter from Raven.”

Clarke smiled as Miss Franco stepped aside to let her in. “How lovely. Though I regret I cannot stay long. I have another stop to make before my father is expecting me home. He worries when I am gone too long.”

Miss Franco was an eccentric spinster. As a younger woman she was rather bookish, and never married. She had a younger sister who died, giving birth to her niece, Raven Reyes. Miss Reyes was the last person of Clarke’s age in Highbury whose mother also met an untimely death. Miss Franco could not afford to take care of her, but she was lucky enough to find a family in another town who had a child of the same age who offered to pay for Raven’s education. Miss Reyes was sent off to the Sinclairs and only returned to Highbury every so often. That did not mean that Clarke ever stopped hearing about her, however. In fact, it was quite to the contrary. Miss Franco loved to keep everyone in the village informed of every update her niece sent.

“Of course, of course. Well, I shall give the abridged version. Please, sit down.”

Miss Franco ushered Clarke into the room, and Clarke had no choice but to sit. Anyone who was in the know would know that there is no such thing as an abridged version with Miss Franco.

“I hope Miss Reyes is well,” Clarke said.

“You are so kind, Miss Griffin. She is much better now.”

“Was she not alright?”

“That is all explained in the letter. Now, Raven has spent October in Weymouth with the Sinclairs, and her dear friend Miss Sinclair who of course is now Mrs. Shaw. Raven, Mrs. Shaw, and Mr. Shaw went in an exploring party near the cliffs. Raven found herself a bit too close to the edge at one point and lost her footing. She almost plummeted to her death! Were it not for Mr. Shaw, who acted so quickly and caught her, I am not sure what might have happened. But unfortunately, the stumble did not help her leg, which as you know has been injured for quite some time now.”

“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that. But I am ever so glad that she is alright.”

“I do not know what I would have done if something were to have happened. We are forever indebted to Mr. Shaw.”

Miss Franco went on to explain a few other details of the letter that were of no consequence to Clarke. She had met Miss Reyes on a few occasions, but they were merely acquaintances. She was glad that Miss Reyes was alright, but she could not say she had been holding her breath waiting for updates on the girl. She found that many people fancied them to be good friends, since Clarke was always polite when Miss Reyes was visiting and made a point to stop by and pay a call. But that was the extent of their relationship. She did not think she had given anyone, Miss Franco in particular, reason to believe that there was anything more to it. Although, Miss Franco believed everyone to be Miss Reyes’ best friend, so Clarke thought little of it.

Clarke was only at Miss Franco’s for fifteen minutes, which was a rather short visit comparatively. She made her way to her last stop, at Mrs. Diyoza’s. She ran a school for young girls on the outskirts of the village and Clarke liked to stop by from time to time.

“Good afternoon, Miss Griffin,” Mrs. Diyoza greeted her as she walked up the path. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Diyoza. I came to bring you the fabric you had asked after.”

She handed Mrs. Diyoza the basket so she could inspect its contents.

“This will do nicely. Thank you very much.”

“Of course. How are things here? Any news since my last visit?”

“We’ve just received a new parlor boarder. A girl not much younger than you are.”

Clarke perked up at this. People her age hardly ever stopped in Highbury, much less stayed there for long periods of time. “Oh? What is her name?”

“Miss Harper McIntyre. We know nothing about her parentage, though she is very well looked after in her stipend and dress allowance.”

“How interesting. Has she made any friends? I am sure adjusting to a new place can be difficult.”

Mrs. Diyoza nodded. “She fits in well with the others. Though she is the oldest, so I think at times she feels a bit left out.”

“I would love to meet this Miss McIntyre. Please extend her an invitation to Arkadia for tea tomorrow.”

“Would that not be an imposition?”

“Of course not! Now that Mrs. Woods is gone, I am also in need of some company. I love my father, but there is only so much we can talk about together before we run out things to say.”

“I am sure she would be delighted to visit you. I shall let her know,” Mrs. Diyoza said.

“Wonderful. I look forward to it. Good day, Mrs. Diyoza!”

With that, Clarke turned back up the walk and began her journey back to Arkadia. To think, she had started the day dreading spending the rest of her time alone. Miss McIntyre might just be the answer to all her prayers. Of course she would continue to miss Octavia, but at least with a new companion, Clarke would feel a little less alone. Tomorrow couldn't come any faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think.
> 
> I do not technically have an update schedule for this fic, but I am going to try to update it consistently. My outline isn't completely finished, but I imagine this will be around 15 chapters or so. 
> 
> If you would like to see an update sooner, I will be taking WIP prompts for updates through t100 Fic for BLM! So if you'd like a chapter to go on my prompt list, you can look for more info on how to do that on [our carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/). I'm also taking WIP updates for my dad!Murphy [Definitely, Maybe fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457063/chapters/67126150). Please note though that I fill prompts in the order I receive them, and my list is a little long at the moment, so I'm working on playing catch up.
> 
> And as always, come find me on [Tumblr](https://queenemori.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/queen_emori).


	2. Harper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I am back with another chapter of this! I am hoping to try and work on this at least every other week, mixed in with my other WIPs and my BLM prompts. I'm very excited about this fic and it's a lot of fun to work on, so it's definitely motivating me to continue, and hopefully the next update will not be a whole month away like this last time. With all that out of the way, please enjoy chapter 2!

Clarke woke the next morning with a sense of purpose. She would be entertaining a new guest at Arkadia, and she was delighted at the prospect of a new friend. Her first full day without Octavia had been exceedingly dull, and she hoped that spending time with Miss McIntyre would be just the thing she needed.

Clarke did not usually take so much care in preparing for tea, since normally her only companions were Octavia or her father. Today she gave specific instructions to the cook, wanting to make sure everything was exactly right. First impressions were everything, after all.

That afternoon, Miss Harper McIntyre was escorted into Clarke’s sitting room. Clarke did not yet know it, but her life was about to become far more interesting.

“Miss McIntyre, it is so lovely to meet you,” Clarke said, greeting her guest with a smile.

Harper curtsied. “Miss Griffin. Thank you ever so much for the invitation.”

“It is no trouble at all! I could hardly sit by and miss an opportunity to know another young person in Highbury. You are most welcome.”

Harper smiled brightly. Clarke studied her for a moment. She was very beautiful and seemed to have quite an amiable personality. Just as Clarke hoped, she might make the perfect new companion.

The servants brought in the tea, and they sat down together. Clarke led the conversation, speaking of Highbury as Harper nodded, listening intently. Clarke could not remember the last time someone hung on to her every word so. She almost thought of Mr. Blake and how he would say she should not flatter herself by thinking herself the most interesting person in the room. But Clarke could not help it if everyone in this town was boring by comparison.

“How are you finding Highbury?” Clarke asked, bringing her teacup to her lips.

“It is very lovely, indeed,” Harper said. “When I first arrived I was struck by how many kind people there are.”

“When you first arrived? Mrs. Diyoza said you only just came to the school recently.”

“Yes, that is true. Know you the Greens of Shallow Valley Farm, Miss Griffin?”

Clarke raised an eyebrow at mention of the Greens. “I know they are tenants of Mr. Blake’s.”

“They were kind enough to host me for two months this summer. So although I just arrived at Mrs. Diyoza’s, I have been in the area for a few months.”

“I see.”

“The Greens are ever so nice, Miss Griffin. Mr. Monty Green, the son, is so thoughtful.”

Clarke nodded, though she felt she had little to add to the conversation.

“Once I mentioned how much I liked strawberries and the next time Mr. Green went to market, he returned with a basket of strawberries just for me,” Harper continued.

“How kind of him,” Clarke said. “There are so many interesting people in Highbury, and it can certainly be hard to keep track of who might be acceptable to keep as company.”

Harper frowned. “I am not sure I understand, Miss Griffin.”

“It is my understanding you know nothing of your parentage, yes?”

“That is correct.”

“Then it is even more important that you are wary of the company you keep, Harper. I have no doubt that you are a gentleman’s daughter. So it is best to keep your acquaintance with the Greens as just that. An acquaintance.”

Harper nodded, though she seemed to take a moment to process Clarke’s words. It seemed Harper would need much more guidance than Clarke originally thought. She would have her hands full with this friendship, but she did not mind. She loved a project. And it was not as though she didn’t have the time.

After tea, Harper accompanied Clarke on her afternoon walk. Clarke told Harper a bit more about Highbury, mainly stories of her friendships.

“Perhaps one day soon I shall take you to visit Mr. Kane,” Clarke said as they strolled. “He is a most amiable man and was a dear friend of my late mother. I try to see him as often as I can for news of his son.”

“Who is his son?” Harper asked.

“His name is Mr. John Murphy. He does not live here in Highbury, and he has never visited. He is a most mercurial figure indeed. But Mr. Kane speaks very highly of him.”

“I should think any father would speak highly of his only son.”

“To be sure. And I have no doubt that we will be proven correct in our assumptions when the day arrives and he finally makes his visit here. It has been quite delayed, but he has many responsibilities. His aunt and uncle rely on him most heavily.”

Harper nodded. “Of course.”

“Good day, Miss Griffin!” came a voice from further up the path. Clarke looked ahead to see the vicar, Mr. Collins walking towards them.

Mr. Finn Collins was one of Highbury’s most beloved residents. He arrived about a year ago, and as one of few young men to settle in the village, everyone took to him instantly. He was rather charming and a beautiful orator with his thoughtful sermons each Sunday. Clarke sometimes found him a tad too eager, but he was friendly and kind, and she thought him a most respectable individual indeed.

“Good day, Mr. Collins,” Clarke said as she and Harper finally approached him.

He lifted his hat in greeting. “I trust you are having a blessed day?”

“I am, indeed. Might I introduce my new friend, Miss Harper McIntyre?”

“Mr. Collins,” Harper said with a curtsy.

Mr. Collins turned his attention to Harper, a kind smile on his face. “It is a pleasure to meet you Miss McIntyre. Miss Griffin has excellent taste, so I am delighted to meet any friend of hers.”

“You are kind, sir.”

Clarke looked quickly between the two of them, noticing the faint blush that set in on Harper’s cheeks at Mr. Collins’s compliment. She did not want to get too many ideas right away, but she could not help but see potential.

“I look forward to seeing you both on Sunday,” Mr. Collins said as he bid them farewell.

Clarke and Harper continued their stroll.

“He seems very nice,” Harper remarked.

Clarke smiled and nodded. “Mr. Collins is very nice. One of the most charitable and kind men to ever step foot in Highbury, if you ask me. As I am sure you have gathered we do not get many young men that decide to settle here, so he is very much revered.”

“Miss McIntyre!” came a voice from the field to their right.

Clarke frowned at the noise, appalled at such lack of manners. Who could possibly be addressing her new friend in this way?

Harper gasped as she turned to see who was approaching her. “Good day, Mr. Green!” she shouted back before quickly walking to meet him.

Clarke’s eyes widened and she stopped in her tracks as Harper met Mr. Monty Green by the side of the road. She hovered nearby, so as not to look like she was eavesdropping, though she could still hear their conversation.

“I trust you are in good health,” Mr. Green said.

Harper nodded. “I am, thank you. Is your mother well?”

“She is. You are kind to ask. I hope Mrs. Diyoza’s school is to your liking.”

“It is. Though I do miss your mother’s pies.”

“Perhaps I can have her make you some?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of making more work for her.”

“She would not mind. She is quite fond of you.”

Harper laughed. “Well, if you are quite sure she would not mind.”

“I should be getting on,” Mr. Green said. “But it was lovely to see you, Miss McIntyre.”

“You as well, Mr. Green.”

He smiled and tipped his hat to her before quickly tipping his hat to Clarke as well. Then he stepped onto the path and continued on his way into town.

Harper turned to Clarke, a bright smile on her face.

“So that was Mr. Green?” Clarke asked.

“Yes, it was. What did you think of him, Miss Griffin?”

Clarke hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “He is not quite what I expected, I’ll admit. I must say, I was unaware of how familiar the two of you were.”

“We did spend a lot of time together over the summer.”

“Nothing untoward happened, I hope.”

“Oh, no! Nothing of the sort. Mr. Green is quite the gentleman.”

Clarke laughed. “Well he is not exactly a gentleman. But we must be cognizant of how our relationships look to outsiders. We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

Harper shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“I am sure you have deduced this by now, but there is very little to do in Highbury. People will talk. So it’s best to leave them with little to imagine. At least until you have an actual suitor, that is.”

“Have you any suitors, Miss Griffin?”

“No, I do not wish to get married. I have everything I could desire and more at Arkadia, so there is no reason for me to find a husband to become the mistress of a home. But that just gives me more time to help you.”

“Help me?”

“You have a charming personality, and any fine man would be lucky to have you as his wife,” Clarke said.

“That is ever so kind of you, Miss Griffin.”

“It is no trouble, really. You are my friend now, and I want only the best for my friend.”

Harper’s face lit up at these words from Clarke. She was glad that Harper seemed just as excited at the prospect of their friendship. By now they had reached Mrs. Diyoza’s, and Clarke turned to Harper before bidding her good day.

“You must come for tea again tomorrow afternoon,” she declared.

Harper curtsied. “Thank you, Miss Griffin.” She smiled one last time and made her way up the path to the house. Clarke watched her for a moment before turning to make her own way home.

Clarke was satisfied with the information she learned about Harper in their first visit with one another. She was very pretty and she really did have a charming personality. There was but one thing that worried Clarke, and it was the problem of Mr. Green.

Mr. Green seemed amiable enough, but she did not expect Harper to seem so attached to him. She could hardly have her new friend become a farmer’s wife. Harper was destined for so much more than that, Clarke could feel it. If only there were a few more young men in Highbury, this might be less of a concern. But as it was, Clarke certainly had her work cut out for her.

About a week into their friendship, Harper asked about Mr. Collins and Clarke perked up instantly. He might be the answer to all of Clarke’s concerns. He was certainly of the age where he should be looking for a wife, if he had not already started. He was pleasant to be around, and Clarke would still be able to welcome Harper into her home were she the vicar’s wife. She did not forget the special attention that Mr. Collins paid the both of them when they met on the road that first day Harper came for tea, and she still remembered the way Harper blushed at his attention. There couldn’t be a more perfect solution. Clarke was determined to make her next match between Harper and Mr. Collins.

Clarke knew for her plan to work she had to invent reasons for Mr. Collins to see Harper outside of church on Sundays. She jumped at the chance to entertain, something she so rarely got to do. She invited him to tea at Arkadia, under the guise of discussing charity work. Harper spent most days at Arkadia now, so it was the perfect way to get the two of them in a room together. Unfortunately, Clarke made the mistake of mentioning to her father that Mr. Collins would be at tea the next day on a night that Mr. Blake happened to be invited to dinner.

Mr. Blake frowned. “What are you planning?”

Clarke looked to him, masking her annoyance at his question. “I do not know what you mean, Mr. Blake. Am I not allowed to invite people to tea in my own home? You know how I never get the chance to entertain.”

“You are most certainly allowed. But then, I am not sure what you and Mr. Collins would have to discuss together.”

“He is the vicar. We will most likely be discussing scripture and one of my ideas to help the needy. And we won’t be alone. Miss McIntyre has a standing invitation to tea.”

“Is this a new interest in scripture you are taking up, or a chance to throw two people together against their will?”

“Clarke, you promised no more matches!” her father interjected.

“I promised no matches for myself, Papa,” Clarke reminded him before turning back to Mr. Blake. “And this is not a matchmaking scheme. Miss McIntyre is my new friend, and we are both working towards bettering ourselves. That includes scripture and charity.”

Mr. Blake stared at Clarke for a moment, as if he were utterly unconvinced of Clarke’s plans. Clarke hated that he knew her so well that he was able to see through simple lies that her father might not question were it just the two of them alone at the dinner table. She was determined to see this match through, and she would not have Mr. Blake ruin it for her. She turned back to her plate and avoided Mr. Blake’s eyes for the rest of the evening, though she could feel his on her even as they moved to the sitting room. He did not say another word on the subject, but she could sense his disappointment that this was how she was choosing to spend her time. But Clarke would not let herself feel judged by him. She knew what she was doing. She’d already made one successful match, and Octavia was quite happy as a result. That should be enough to keep Mr. Blake from frowning on Clarke’s plans, but clearly he would never approve.

The next day arrived and Clarke felt prepared to put her plan into action. She did not care what Mr. Blake had to say on the matter. What did he know? Clarke was skilled at matchmaking, and she was sure she would be planning Harper’s wedding to Mr. Collins sometime in the new year.

Clarke had not spent too much time indulging Mr. Collins in conversation. Of course when he first arrived in Highbury, she invited him to tea, but that was quite a long time ago. She did not remember him being so talkative, though her father did have many questions to ask the new vicar, which somewhat monopolized the conversation. Today, Mr. Collins seemed to talk for ages, but Clarke did her best to feign interest like the charming hostess she was. Thankfully Harper seemed to hang on to his every word.

“I am very grateful that you extended this invitation to me today, Miss Griffin,” Mr. Collins said. “It brings me great pleasure that two such lovely young ladies as you and Miss McIntyre are taking such an interest in helping the poor.”

Clarke smiled. “Of course. We must be helpful where we can. In truth, the credit must be given to Miss McIntyre.”

Mr. Collins nodded, smiling amiably at Harper. “I applaud you, Miss McIntyre. Not everyone is keen on devoting time to help others, but I can tell that Miss Griffin has had a most positive influence on you indeed.”

“I enjoy feeling helpful,” Harper said, smiling into her teacup.

“I have always felt that it is a natural human instinct to be helpful. We must all find small ways to be a Good Samaritan in our own right,” Mr. Collins continued.

Clarke observed Harper during their visit with Mr. Collins. It seemed as though Clarke would not have trouble on that end. With Mr. Collins, she was slightly less sure of where his affections lay. He seemed skilled at hiding his emotions, but she caught a brief glimpse of something as he prepared to leave.

“Oh, this painting is lovely, Miss Griffin!” Mr. Collins said, admiring a small portrait of Octavia that Clarke did a few months before Octavia left.

“I thank you, sir. I have been wanting to get more practice with portraits, but I never have anyone to sit for me,” Clarke admitted. Suddenly, an idea struck her. “Harper, have you ever had your likeness taken?”

Harper looked up at Clarke, wide-eyed. “No, Miss Griffin.”

Mr. Collins turned to look at Harper, then back at Clarke. “Miss Griffin, I would be most humbled indeed if I could persuade you to paint Miss McIntyre. I have no doubt it would be the most exquisite painting in the world, in part because of the exquisite subject.”

Clarke smiled. “I would be delighted to paint it. Harper, what do you say?”

“I would love to.”

“Splendid!” Mr. Collins cried, clapping his hands together.

Once Mr. Collins left, Clarke was more convinced than ever that there might be hope for this match yet.

The plans were arranged and soon enough the day came that Clarke was ready to have Harper pose for her portrait. She prepared her pencils and paints, eager to take Harper’s likeness. She was also eager that Mr. Collins seemed so keen on the project. He insisted on being there the day that Harper posed, which Clarke took as yet another promising sign.

In the week leading up to the portrait sitting, Clarke and Harper happened upon Mr. Collins quite often in their travels. Whether that was by his own design or mere coincidence was unclear, but Clarke was grateful that he seemed to want to spend as much time with Harper as possible.

Clarke stood in front of Harper, adjusting her arms so that everything was just so. She took a step back, coming to stand next to Mr. Collins.

“What do you think, Mr. Collins?” Clarke asked.

“The very picture of beauty and elegance,” Mr. Collins answered.

Clarke smiled at Harper, whose eyes lit up immensely at the compliment Mr. Collins had just paid her. She went back to her canvas and continued with her work. Mr. Collins wandered throughout the room, sometimes stepping near Harper, other times coming up behind Clarke to observe her work.

“Miss Griffin, you were met with a most beautiful subject, and everything that you have put down on paper has only further enhanced the beauty.”

“You are very kind, Mr. Collins.” Clarke had never known someone to be so complimentary. Mr. Collins must have really been in love.

As their sitting drew to a close, Mr. Blake and Mr. Griffin stopped in to greet Mr. Collins as they made their way through the house.

“Mr. Griffin, your daughter has quite a talent!” Mr. Collins proclaimed as Mr. Blake and Clarke’s father came to view the painting.

Mr. Griffin nodded. “It is very nice, my dear.”

Mr. Blake studied it for slightly longer, tilting his head in concentration. “It would seem some of your brush strokes are uneven, Clarke.”

Clarke resisted the urge to roll her eyes in mixed company. Mr. Blake was never one to pay a compliment when he could find a way to insult her instead.

Mr. Collins shook his head, clearly unaware that this was a normal occurrence between Clarke and Mr. Blake. “It is perfect, Miss Griffin. In fact, it is a painting that is most deserving of a frame. Allow me to do the honors. I shall go to London and find one that is just right.”

“Oh, I do not wish to trouble you with that, Mr. Collins,” Clarke said.

“Nonsense! It is no trouble at all. I should be delighted to do it. Such an exquisite portrait of a beautiful subject must have a frame to match. I will make it my solemn duty to find this painting the perfect vessel.”

“Then by all means!”

Mr. Collins left with promises to come back at a later date and pick up the painting. Harper was not far behind him. As Clarke walked her to the door, they recounted the events of the afternoon.

“I do not want to get your hopes up, but I can only take it as a good sign that Mr. Collins is so quick to pay you compliments. If he is not in love, then he is on the verge of love, and that is just as promising.”

Harper smiled. “Do you really think so?”

Clarke nodded. “It is only a matter of time, I think, until he makes his feelings known. Granted, he is not exactly subtle as it is.”

“I must admit, I have never seen someone get so excited about a frame before.”

“He is not excited about the frame, he is excited about the picture that will reside in the frame. And why should he not be excited about it? Especially when the subject is so exquisite, as he puts it?”

“You are so kind to me, Miss Griffin.”

Clarke took Harper’s hands in hers. “You are my friend Harper. And I only want the best for my friend.”

They bid each other goodbye, and Clarke went back into the sitting room to clear her paints away. She found Mr. Blake by himself, reading a book.

“Did Papa ask if you were staying for dinner?” Clarke asked.

He looked up from his reading. “He did. He has already alerted the cook, if that was your concern.”

Clarke nodded, then went back to her paints. Mr. Blake went back to his reading.

“I know my brush strokes might have been uneven, but I hope you appreciate that I am working to improve myself,” she said after a moment.

Mr. Blake sighed, closing his book completely. “I do appreciate it. There is always room for improvement. As evidenced by your brush strokes.”

“Thankfully it is not your opinion that matters on this subject, but that of Mr. Collins. And he thought it was exquisite.”

Mr. Blake chuckled. “I have never heard the word exquisite so overused in the course of an afternoon. He is rather obvious in his ploys, though whether to you or Miss McIntyre, I am still not entirely sure.”

Clarke could not help but laugh at Mr. Blake’s absurd statement. “Don’t be silly. It is for Miss McIntyre, and Miss McIntyre alone.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Of course I am sure! I am never wrong about these things.”

“Clarke, I know you think of yourself as one, but you are not a matchmaker.”

“I may not be a matchmaker, but I am excellent at reading people. There is affection on both sides. I am sure of it.”

Mr. Blake said no more, simply rolled his eyes and went back to his book. It was safe to say that this was yet another subject that he and Clarke would never see eye-to-eye on, so it was probably best for both of them if they ended the discussion before it could turn into a quarrel. But Clarke knew what she saw. Harper and Mr. Collins were completely on the verge of marriage, and she could not help but be excited at the prospect of another match thanks to her hard work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think.
> 
> As I said before, I'm interspersing updates of this as I also work through my t100 Fic for BLM prompt fill list. If you'd like to prompt me something, you can check out [our carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) for more info. I only have one other Bellarke prompt upcoming, so if you have a Bellarke idea you'd like to see me write, that would be the perfect thing to prompt! Speaking of, we currently have an audience survey going and would love your feedback. It's all anonymous and you can find it [here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfXcFI3r7_wdL0H9iyx6SLnM3Ey9bF8LaiTxYSSqXpg9bqxDw/viewform).
> 
> As always, come find me on [Tumblr](https://queenemori.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/queen_emori).


	3. An Unexpected Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I let another month pass before updating this... I'm not making anymore promises about my updates lol, but if you're ever curious what else I'm working on, I'm now keeping a [tentative schedule](https://queenemori.tumblr.com/post/641216982338945024/karas-upcoming-fic-schedule-this-is-my-pinned) of all the fics I've got in the works as the pinned post on my blog. 
> 
> That being said, this is actually coming a bit earlier than I expected, I was just feeling motivated to work on it this week. So I hope you enjoy!

A few days after Harper sat for her portrait, Clarke brought her to meet Mr. Kane. He was enthusiastic as ever, pleased to meet a new friend of Clarke’s.

“I must say, I am pleased to finally meet you, Miss McIntyre,” Mr. Kane said. “Clarke sings your praises often.”

Harper smiled, her cheeks turning slightly red. “That is so kind. And I have heard such lovely things about you, as well.”

“So what brings you ladies here today?”

“I believe I was due for a visit,” Clarke said. “I do not want you to get too lonely if I spend too much time away.”

Mr. Kane chuckled. “You are always so thoughtful. And I am sure you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve received a letter from my son.”

Clarke perked up at this. Certainly it was always nice to visit with Mr. Kane, but she would not lie to herself and say that she was not hoping for an update about a certain Mr. John Murphy. Mr. Kane pulled the letter from his desk as the servants brought in the tea. Once everyone was settled, he launched into his explanation.

“John writes that he is sorry he could not make it to Highbury in October. He was pulled away to Weymouth, and that took more of his time than he expected. He has had to be home since. You see, his aunt has been rather ill as of late. He hopes to be able to make the trip to Highbury for Christmas.”

Clarke nodded and tried to mask her disappointment. Mr. Murphy was able to make it to Weymouth in October, but not home to see his own father? “I am ever so sorry to hear about his aunt.”

“It is nothing new. She has always been frail, but lately her illness seems to have worsened. She relies on John most heavily.”

“Of course. But I am sure that when he is finally able to make it to Highbury for a visit, you will be most delighted indeed.”

Mr. Kane smiled. “Yes, I do believe so. Not much has changed since he was a boy, but I am sure he does not remember it. It will be like discovering a new place for him.”

That night, Mr. Blake came to visit with Clarke and her father while they sat in the drawing room.

“And how did you spend your day today, Clarke?” Mr. Blake asked as he took his usual seat by the fire.

“I took Harper to pay Mr. Kane a visit,” Clarke answered, not bothering to look up from her book.

Mr. Blake chuckled. “Of course. Any news of Mr. Murphy, then?”

Clarke sighed, closing her book. She would not get anymore reading done tonight. “He could not make it to Highbury in October because he spent time in Weymouth, then had to return to his aunt. But he hopes to be able to get away for Christmas.”

“What is so important in Weymouth that it stopped him from coming to visit his father?”

“I can assure you, I do not know.”

“This is not a point in his favor, I hope you know that.”

“Who are we to say such things, Mr. Blake? We have no idea of the responsibilities that are put upon Mr. Murphy. I am sure whatever was in Weymouth at the time was of the utmost priority.”

“I have never seen a person give so much credit to a complete stranger as you do with John Murphy,” Mr. Blake remarked.

Clarke scoffed, straightening in her seat. “He is not a complete stranger! He is Mr. Kane’s son.”

“Mr. Kane’s son, whom you have never met. Therefore he is a stranger to you.”

“I have to wonder, Mr. Blake, if he is a complete stranger, why are you so set on believing the worst in him? Should we not wait until he arrives to pass judgement then?”

Mr. Blake chuckled and shook his head. “I am beginning to think he will never arrive. And that is enough for me to pass judgement. He clearly does not hold his father in high enough regard to take the time away from his other responsibilities. That is all I need to know.”

Clarke frowned, watching as Mr. Blake ended the discussion by turning to her father to ask him about his day. She did not understand Mr. Blake’s prejudice against John Murphy. Not so long ago, Mr. Blake knew exactly what it was to have a relative in his care. Had he been so quick to forget everything he did for Octavia and how often his duties to her kept him from doing as he pleased? Had he truly gotten used to the freedom of no longer having a ward so quickly? Sometimes Clarke felt as though Mr. Blake carried on as if he were the most perfect man in all of Highbury, and she was tired of it. Not everyone could see, but she knew the reality. Mr. Blake was a fine hypocrite, just like the rest of them. And she relished the day when John Murphy arrived and Mr. Blake would be proven wrong and she could declare victory over this quarrel. If all went well, she would be proven correct by Christmas.

A few days later, Clarke sat in her sitting room with her embroidery, waiting for Harper to arrive for tea. Harper spent practically every afternoon at Arkadia, and Clarke was ever so glad of the company. She found it a lot easier to work towards bettering herself when she had a companion. They had even begun putting together a book of riddles and poems to pass the time. Mr. Blake thought the idea was rather silly, but Clarke supplied that some things were simply meant to be fun.

On this occasion, Harper ran into the sitting room, flustered and out of breath. She was holding a letter in her hand and stopped in front of Clarke. Clarke frowned, unsure what could be the cause of such a display.

“Forgive me, Miss Griffin,” Harper began, taking a deep breath. “Only, I did not know what to do. I received this letter and then I ran here immediately.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Mr. Green has asked for my hand in marriage!”

Clarke’s eyes widened. She had no idea that Mr. Green’s attachment to her friend extended so far. She put down her embroidery before she spoke. “Mr. Green has asked for your hand in marriage?”

Harper nodded. “Yes. It is all here.” She held out the letter for Clarke to see.

Clarke took the letter and scanned the page. It was simple, not terribly embellished. And it certainly was a proposal.

“I thought it was a good letter,” Harper said as Clarke read. “Do you not think so?”

“To be sure, it is nicer than I would have expected. But then, perhaps his mother helped him with it.”

“I am ever so shocked by it, I barely know what to say.”

Clarke handed the letter back to Harper. “Well the answer must be in your words. And you know him better than I. I am sure you can think of a way to let him down gently.”

Harper’s eyes went wide. “You think I ought to refuse him?”

“You were not already sure of your answer to him?”

“Well, I…”

“Harper, if you have to ask for my opinion on this matter, I am not sure it is in your best interest to say yes.”

Harper stared at Clarke for a moment then looked off into the distance, clutching the letter to her chest. Clarke could almost see her friend making the decision in her head. Her own stomach churned, dreading the silence that filled the room the longer Harper took to say something.

She looked up again. “I have decided to refuse him.”

Clarke let out a sigh and smiled. “Very well. Now let’s have our tea and then we can think about your answer to him.”

Harper nodded and took her usual seat as Clarke rang for tea. She was grateful that she would not have to lose her only companion to a common farmer. How dreadful it would have been to spend all that time working to help Harper improve all for it to go to waste!

A few days after the proposal debacle, Clarke received an early afternoon visit from Mr. Blake. She smiled as he entered the sitting room, closing her book to give him her full attention.

“Mr. Blake, what a pleasant surprise!” Clarke said. “I was not expecting you.”

“I hope I am still welcome,” he said with a smile.

“But of course. I cannot begrudge a visit from someone who is practically family.”

Mr. Blake took a seat. “Have you heard from your friend Miss McIntyre recently?”

“She comes for tea almost everyday. I expect she should be here a bit later. Why do you ask?”

“I expect you’ll be hearing some good news from her quite soon.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I have it on good authority that my tenant, Monty Green, is intent on asking for Miss McIntyre’s hand in marriage,” he explained.

“Oh. That. Yes, I know all about Mr. Green’s proposal.”

“Are you not pleased?”

She scoffed. “Pleased? Why would I be pleased, Mr. Blake?”

“Are you not happy that someone has asked your friend to marry him? This marriage is a good thing for Miss McIntyre.”

“This marriage won’t be happening. Miss McIntyre has refused him.”

Mr. Blake did not bother to hide his confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well she came over completely flustered and she told me what happened. I do commend him on his letter. But Mr. Green is not the man for her.”

“I cannot believe you, Clarke. I thought you would want the best for this young woman who you consider to be your friend.”

“Yes, I do want the best for my friend, Mr. Blake! And Harper can certainly do better than Mr. Green.”

“I am not certain that she can, when she knows nothing of her parentage. Why not let her marry Mr. Green and be secure in that in case anything ever were to come out?”

“It is too late now. She has already written her response.”

Mr. Blake stood from his chair and began to pace the room. “You mean, _you_ have already written her response. I cannot believe you would allow yourself to influence this poor girl so.”

Clarke felt her face heat up, determined to make Mr. Blake see her side of things. “I know you might think it silly and vain, but perhaps there are other reasons I thought that Harper and Mr. Green were not a good match. And you should have seen the look on her face, she herself was not completely convinced!”

“And do you know why? Because you’ve filled her head with these ideas that she can do better. That Mr. Collins is paying her attention, when I can assure you, he is not.”

“I have told you before, and I will tell you again, Mr. Blake, Mr. Collins is in love with Miss McIntyre! I am sure of it!” Clarke declared.

Mr. Blake laughed. “Mr. Collins is a snob, first and foremost. I know you do not see him that way because he is a man of God, but I have heard him speak when there are only other men present, and I know very well he would never marry someone that he could not be sure of where they came from.”

“While it is true that Harper does not know where she comes from, she is kind, good-natured, and would make a perfectly fine wife. And at present that is all most men seem to desire from a woman, so why should she not aim above her station?”

“You are setting her up for failure, Clarke. If you truly cared about her, you would not allow her to get her hopes up that she can aim so high above her station and expect positive results.”

“I do not see the point in you berating me over this, Mr. Blake. Especially when it is already over and done with. She sent the letter and she said no. Must we quarrel over something that is in the past?”

Mr. Blake stared at Clarke for a moment. She could not decipher the look on his face, but it almost felt as though he were disappointed in her. Her stomach churned at the thought. She held Mr. Blake’s opinion in such high regard, and she did not want him to think that she was acting badly. Still, Clarke felt she was in the right, so she was not sure what more there was to say.

“I hope you know that your meddling has consequences that affect more than just you. I must take my leave.”

He started on his way out of the sitting room and Clarke called to him, “Am I not allowed to have one friend all to myself?”

Mr. Blake turned back to look at Clarke. He smiled at her, though it did not reach his eyes. He was still upset. He said nothing more before he turned and exited the room.

Clarke sighed once he was gone, exhausted and upset that Mr. Blake started this quarrel with her. Perhaps some of her motives in wanting Harper to not accept Mr. Green were a bit vain, but she just lost one friend to marriage. How could he expect her to lose another so quickly? All that aside, she did not care what Mr. Blake had to say on the matter. Mr. Collins was in love with Harper, and Clarke would stand firm in her belief of that until the truth came to light.

Clarke’s painting of Harper was ready to be taken to London for its frame. Mr. Collins arrived at Arkadia, still insistent on making the trip himself.

“It is my utmost privilege to escort this work of art to London and find it a proper frame,” Mr. Collins said.

Clarke smiled, handing him the parcel. “You are most kind to do it, sir.”

“And while I am here, I have it on good authority that you and Miss McIntyre are collecting riddles and poems for a book.”

“We are.”

Mr. Collins retrieved a slip of paper from his pocket. “I would be honored if you would be so kind as to include my addition.”

“We should be delighted, Mr. Collins. Thank you for thinking of us.”

“Anything for you, Miss Griffin.” He bowed before taking his leave.

Clarke smiled and went back into the sitting room where Harper was looking over what they had of their book so far.

“Mr. Collins has brought us something for our book,” Clarke said, holding the piece of paper out to her companion.

Harper gasped. “Did you read it?”

“I was saving it for you to read.” She handed it to Harper, almost as excited as her friend to see what the contents held.

Harper stared at the paper before unfolding it and reading the lines out loud:

“So are you to my thoughts as food to life,

Or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground;

And for the peace of you I hold such strife

As ‘twixt a miser and his wealth is found.”

Clarke nodded to herself, ruminating over the words. They were certainly not what she would have expected to receive from the vicar. But they were certainly a welcome addition to their collection.

“Well he certainly has a way with words, doesn’t he?” Harper said in awe.

“More like Shakespeare has a way with words. But even so, it fits perfectly with our book. Don’t you know what this means, Harper? It means Mr. Collins cannot stop thinking about you.”

Harper lit up, and it thrilled Clarke to see her friend so happy. Writing the letter to Mr. Green had been a taxing matter; Harper had a great deal of trouble forming adequate words to refuse him, leaving Clarke worried about her friend’s level of attachment to the man. But with the thought of a new prospect on the horizon, this was the most excited Harper had been since she posted her response, and Clarke finally felt that she could let out a sigh of relief.

In pursuit of more poems and riddles for their book, Clarke made a visit to Mr. Kane. He told her she was always a welcome guest and need not write ahead if she wanted to drop in. She took advantage of this as an excuse for a walk. It was getting chillier as winter approached, but the day was mild enough that she was able to convince her father she could use the fresh air and was not in need of the carriage.

A servant showed Clarke to Mr. Kane’s sitting room. As they approached she heard hushed voices and if she was not mistaken, the mention of her name. Who was already at Mr. Kane’s and what could he possibly have to talk about with someone else that had to do with Clarke?

The servant announced her and Clarke smiled as she entered the room to find Mr. Kane and Mr. Blake. Both of them quickly turned from where they had been facing the window and bowed as Clarke entered.

“Clarke! What a pleasant surprise,” Mr. Kane said.

“I hope you two were not gossiping about me,” she said.

“Only good things. In fact, I cannot think of a thing to say that is not in your favor.”

Clarke chuckled, then turned her attention to Mr. Blake. “I am not sure that Mr. Blake would agree with you.”

Mr. Blake’s eyes widened slightly, as though taken aback by her comment, but his answer was measured. “I can assure you, I only see the best in you, Clarke.”

Though his words were kind, Clarke could still feel the tension of their recent quarrel between them. She hated when they were not on the best terms. It happened every so often when they disagreed on something and were not immediately able to find common ground. Clarke wanted Mr. Blake to break first, seeing as she felt she was not in the wrong. But she knew he would not budge on this.

Mr. Kane seemed unaffected by what was passing between Clarke and Mr. Blake and continued on. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Clarke smiled. “As you might have heard, Miss McIntyre and I are putting together a book of riddles and poems. I thought I might ask if you had an addition you would like included.”

“That sounds lovely. I think I know just the thing.” He nodded and went to his desk for a piece of paper.

“Do not worry, Mr. Blake. I had not planned on asking you. I know you do not care for such frivolous endeavors.”

“At least you are using your brain. That is all I care about at the end of the day,” he replied.

She smiled and he was quick to return it. Perhaps their quarrel would not last forever after all. Mr. Blake liked to pretend he was hardened and cold, but Clarke knew that he cared deeply and did not like being mad at her. Things would turn around for them.

Soon enough, Mr. Collins returned from London with the framed portrait of Harper. He felt it was only right to do a proper unveiling of what he called “such an exquisite masterpiece”, so Clarke, Mr. Griffin, and Harper all gathered in the sitting room on the next day Mr. Collins was available.

The servants had set up an easel to hold the frame, and it was covered in a sheet. Clarke had never realized how much of a flair for the dramatic Mr. Collins possessed. It was interesting to learn more about him as he vied for her friend’s affections.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Mr. Collins began, “it is my great pleasure to present to you the most perfect frame for what it is indeed the most perfect portrait of a lovely young woman.”

Harper giggled next to Clarke at the compliment. Clarke smiled, glad to see that everything with Mr. Green seemed to be well and truly out of her head.

Mr. Collins pulled the sheet from the easel to reveal an ornate frame with gold trimming. It was a bit too gaudy for Clarke’s taste, but it was not her opinion that mattered.

“It is lovely, Mr. Collins!” Harper cried.

“Indeed,” Clarke said. “I hope it did not cost you too greatly.”

“Nonsense. No expense should be spared for such a work of art as your portrait, Miss Griffin,” Mr. Collins declared.

“You are too kind, sir.”

Once he and Harper had gone, Harper with the portrait in her possession, Mr. Griffin no longer held his tongue. “It was a ghastly frame, if you ask me.”

Clarke chuckled. “Luckily for us, it does not matter how we felt about the frame. What matters is that Harper liked it, which she did.”

“She would like anything that man gave her.”

“She is in love, Papa. And when one is in love, everything that the object of one’s affections does seems perfect. We cannot fault her for that.”

Mr. Griffin gumbled some more, but Clarke paid him no mind. She was just glad that things were progressing just as she’d planned between Harper and Mr. Collins. It would not surprise her in the slightest if there were to be a proposal by the new year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think.
> 
> Mr. Collins revealing the portrait is a fun moment I had to include because it's one of my favorite scenes in the newest Emma adaptation. I couldn't find the clip by itself, but if you skip 19 seconds into [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FK1otELE9k&ab_channel=WesNguyen) you'll find it.
> 
> Don't forget I'm writing for t100 Fic for BLM. You can check out [our carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) for more info, and if you'd like an update of this sooner I am accepting WIP update prompts, so the next chapter would move up in my queue and become more of a priority, basically.
> 
> And as always, you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://queenemori.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/queen_emori).


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